Ethan tapped his elbow against the sword hilt on his belt, a slight movement across the table spoke of Conner, James and Guile doing the same. And if Sigismund hadn’t been in his blind spot, he didn’t doubt he’d see the same there.

  “Visitor?” He offered, and immediately wanted to slap himself. Would the man’s words change for repeating them back to him?

  “Yes Milord. He, ah, he appeared at the west gate and requested entrance and an audience with yous self.”

  “At the west gate?” Ethan grimaced and grabbed a cup of water to keep himself from saying anything else so damn foolish! But damn! How the hell? There were hunters swarming the valley, armsmen patrolling for beasts and work details all over hell and back!

  Not to mention over a hundred miles of frozen, beast or monster-infested wilderness between here and the closest town and road.

  “Yes, Milord. Looks loike a traveling Mercator. Dressed noice like, big pack and simple, but well used weapons. Wes, ah, wes brought him in out of the cold, gave him a cup o’ tea and have him under guard in the Wagonrest.”

  Ethan waved a hand. It was the only thing they could have done. Hospitality to a traveler was by the Gods’ decree and a practical necessity. With the power inside a man, from tier 1 to, gods forbid, tier 10, invisible to the naked eye, it paid to be polite.

  A tier 5 in rags from some heroic fight might not look like much, but a grudge from a poor reception could leave a fief in ruins. For all of that, he’d see this, this ‘Mercator’, buried if the right answers were not forthcoming. He might regret the necessity. But it would not stay his hand with the fate of the Band in question. He’d just do it after he left the Stone.

  Some secrets had to be kept.

  He glanced around, meeting eyes and seeing the same caution, and a bit of bloodlust truth to be told, in their eyes as no doubt existed in his own.

  “Bring him in then. With a detail.”

  “Milord!” He snapped a fist to chest and backed out of the room, letting the curtain fall.

  They snapped into motion, curtains were drawn over sensitive maps, scrolls were rolled up and put away, armor ties and straps were tightened and weapons half drawn before being returned to sheaths.

  It was several minutes before the curtain was pulled back again, how he was looking forward to replacing the damn thing with a proper door, and two Hastati stepped inside, then to either side of the doorway to make room for a nondescript man followed by another two Hastati.

  He was of medium height and a decent muscular build. Nothing too extreme, but well built for toting the massive pack that even now pulled back on his shoulders.

  His hair was the black and skin the olive of the empire’s heartland. Honest-looking brown eyes completed an inoffensive, forgettable face. One with enough meat on it to be jolly, but not so much as to suggest fat.

  He was indeed well dressed for the conditions, in a thick, grey, quilted woolen coat that fell to his knees, belted closed at his waist and with a high collar that hid his mouth and nearly his ears. The threads were small, tight and regular, with the sheen of wax on the outside for waterproofing. Not a cheap garment, but a necessary expense for the area. Especially for those without the buffs of Ethan's subjects.

  A glance down revealed the edge of thick woolen trousers disappearing into equally thick, fur-wrapped boots.

  To the right side of the coat’s belt hung a gladius in a plain wooden sheath. Its hilt, leather-wrapped wood, had the worn, well-cared-for look of a favored tool. A workman’s weapon, no display piece. It was balanced with a largish eating knife to the other side and a head-high spear-cum-walking staff with an extended iron ferule in the hands of the right rear Hastati completed his loadout.

  It was a normal image for a moderately prosperous traveling merchant or tinker.

  From the heartlands where the beasts were kept suppressed and the roads mostly safe.

  Here in the hinterlands?

  He stuck out like a cloistered nun in a whorehouse.

  He should not have made it here alive, much less unspotted. Which meant there was considerably more to him than his looks suggested.

  “Be welcome, Master …?” Ethan trailed off meaningfully.

  “Ah, Lucius Your Lordship.” Of course it was, the most common name in the empire. Might as well be called John Smith! Ethan hid a frown. Where did that thought come from? And the alien-sounding name? He shook it off. He would not, could not be inattentive with the mystery in front of them.

  “Master Lucius then, I’m impressed with your fieldcraft and fortitude, but you understand it speaks poorly of me and my men that you managed it. I’d be obliged if you’d explain.”

  “Ah, but of course your lordship. You see I –” He began a lurid, long and detailed explanation of a sharp nose for a deal and a rumor in Aeunland. Of overcoming beasts and the elements in a series of feats fit for a hero of old, or to drive the worth of his goods through the roof, no doubt.

  Ethan was about to cut him off – and froze. The wildly gesticulating arms had pulled a simple necklace from the part of his coat. A brass sun on a lanyard. The purity of light. A common good luck charm the Empire over. Only this one caught the light just right, and it wasn’t a sun that Ethan saw.

  It was a dark feathered bird on a branch, its head turned and an eye looking down and missing nothing.

  He continued his motion, leaving but a small pause in the midst of raising his hand. “All right, enough of that. Guardsmen, return to your posts. I think we can handle one Mercator.

  “Milord!” They looked a bit reluctant, but didn’t so much as protest. Slapping fists to armored chests and leaving through the door. Conner though, was giving him a surprised stink eye. He didn’t explain.

  “Brother, the door if you please. Full silence.” Something in his tone caught Blake's attention. His half-opened mouth snapped shut and he stood from his chair, heading over to the runes and lines already drawn into the wall beside the door and placing a thumb-sized core into a waiting hole. He chanted a few words, then turned with a nod.

  “Done.”

  “My thanks. Now, Master Lucius-“ He invested the name with all the doubt he felt, but he did it respectfully! A Gods bedamned Raven in his keep! Stormbringers and carrion eaters they were called. And not in exaggeration either. “- do you have a question or task for us?”

  He smiled, a jolly, easy, honest smile that somehow turned Ethan's stomach just to see it. He shrugged his shoulders again, and the rest of the room froze. The necklace was still there, but the sun was completely gone. He raised his hand, then with a gesture, an equally simple ring flared with light. The light of a familiar bird rising from the flames of rebirth.

  Ethan slid from his chair and his knee hit the ground in time with the rest of the room, as the light of his Emperor’s authority, authentic and incontrovertible, bathed them.

  “I speak for the Emperor, may his light ever shine on the fields of Aclelia-“

  “May his light ever shine on the fields of Aclelia!” They chorused, filling the familiar catechism with real loyalty and feeling, if not the outright fanaticism of the man before them.

  “-and at his direct behest. Listen closely for these are his words.”

  He took a step to the side and straightened, achieving another 4 inches of height in some twist of posture or magic. His eyes closed and his mouth opened, and a different, booming, voice emerged. One he knew, though he’d only heard it directly a few times. One he could not not know.

  “We are Impressed. You are not merely wise, but also lucky and capable of keeping secrets. These are not small character traits. They are rare, and should be treasured as such. You bring Us wealth untold. A new Fortress Core, new classes to enrich the Empire that We love. We wish you more such Luck-“

  Ethan flinched as the very words, spoken through an intermediate, still spread out in a wave of light in the purest gold to line each of them.

  “-May your line endure and bring a wealth of classes and goods to the Empire. Alas, such wishes are near the limit of what We will give. Only in adversity are the best blades forged. But be known, you are my fiefsman, and such protections as are customary shall be enforced to the letter. Such that are not, will not be. Be well, be wise and plan for the future. Or you will not survive to see it.”

  The voice faded slowly from the sealed room. Its echoes ringing in Ethan's ears and leaving him unable to think, but also unable to forget. They engraved themselves within.

  He took a deep breath, and with effort rose from his suddenly aching knee, reaching out to lift an equally shaky Ermina to her feet, the bump on her normally trim figure suddenly all the more pronounced.

  He set her in a chair and poured a cup of tea, glancing up at the Raven who was once more an ordinary man with an ordinary height. He raised the pitcher in his direction with an eyebrow raised.

  “The beer, if it’s all the same to you.”

  Ethan shrugged and switched pitchers, pouring the man a full cup, and the same for the rest of the room. A hidden blessing. He normally mixed it half with water, but this was not such a day. “You may regret that choice, Master Raven. We’ve had to make do with less and I doubt this is of the quality you’re used to.”

  “You would be surprised at what I’ve grown used to. From utter Basic to the Blessing of My Lord’s table. All is good if it is done in his name.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  Ethan raised an eyebrow, piss was piss, and while he’d admit good company made even poor brew palatable, that was not quite the same thing. Still, he wasn’t about to dispute the man!

  He took a chair at the table and took a small, but appreciative sip of the weak, piney beer.

  Ethan did the same, if with an uncertain stomach. It was a nice thing to be praised, but the attention of such heights was not safe. He took another sip, then braced himself. “What may we do for the Emperor?”

  “You are a smart man, Baronet.” He nodded, not bothering to deny the implication. “And we will get to that. But before the bitter, a bit of the better I think.” He took another sip.

  “Forgive my digression, but have you ever wondered at the Armies of the Empire? Not at how many, but at how uniform the base is? Hastati like your loyal guards in droves, Principes less common, but still present in nearly every fief. And if you stop for a moment and remember where you received the class-“

  He didn’t have to think. It was a gift from the Emperor, if by the hands of an agent, for battle merits rendered.

  “- you will no doubt find the aim of my shaft. They come from the Emperor's hands. A tool to make sure our armies can work together when called upon. And indeed, are flexible enough to respond to each threat. For that is what a Hastati and its upgrades are. The most flexible and reliable combat classes the Emperor in his Wisdom could find.” That… wasn’t wrong. He’d prefer his Phalangites against cavalry or large beasts, cavalry against archers or archers against Phalangites and scouts or skirmishers against the same. But for all of that, the Hastati could do nearly everything.

  They were far more mobile than the long spears, held well against archers, against beasts, against other infantry. In smooth or rough terrain. In the open field or on walls. They could deal ranged damage or stand at the apex of the line in melee. They weren’t always the best class, but they were always a useful one.

  “As a new noble,” He continued, “it is my Honor to present you with the opportunity of acquiring Principes. For it is not to be given. It is to be earned. Paid for in a particular type of coin. A trophy, a token that stands in place of an act of valor. One that is in line with your duties as a Noble of the Empire. Your fellow Baronets will receive the same opportunity, and in not to long. You are merely the first. Because you earned that status with this feat.” He gestured at the Stone beneath his feet.

  Ethan stared. An Uncommon Class, just like that? It was… valuable in the extreme. And just a token required? And yet, the Strategos inside him raved at the brilliance of the move. A hundred classes coming together to fight a battle, without training or coordination, it would be a disaster.

  He tapped on the table for a moment. Then turned to Guile. “The Frost Wolf Hide.” The man grinned and quickly left the room, sliding through a nearly liquid film on his way out. It was a valuable find… but not particularly useful. Not here at least.

  Ethan considered, then kept his mouth shut, allowing their guest to finish his glass, before filling it again without comment. It was not a long wait, but in silence it seemed to take nearly forever before Guile returned, a carefully tanned and preserved rolled wolfskin under his arm, preceding and following him for several feet in each direction.

  With a showy twist and toss the pure, glistening white fur unrolled, revealing a still attached and fur-covered upper skull, with two finger-length fangs extending down from it in both hood and cloak. A cloak that extended a full six and a half feet from the oversized headpiece.

  It had been a big bastard alive, and hadn’t gone quietly, or alone, into the afterlife. Ethan hid a grimace. The damn thing had cost him a Pahadi! But it was valor that killed it. And in defense of hearth, fief and subjects. What could better fit his requirements?

  And as for the extra, the Raven nearly dropped the coat on contact, rubbing his hands briskly on his coat with a suddenly cheerful chortle. “Stays cold does it?” Ethan nodded. “I knew you were smart!”

  He grinned, and with a casual motion, tapped the table.

  The table that hid the core behind over a foot of Basalt, and one that he should not have known the location of.

  Ethan stared, his mind whirling as plans considered to risky shot up in likelihood. Just the options on Bir’Ding Gate, now that they had an alternative beside success or losing 2 levels.

  Fuck! But it was a hell of a benefit… But it hadn’t come from a class stone. Just a tap… And how had the Emperor known about them? Ethan didn’t doubt the man’s spies, not with the man in front of them! But the timing didn’t make sense for that. No, this was a flex. A reminder that he knew more, saw more than Ethan imagined. And he would do what was in the best interest of the Empire… not Ethan’s small piece of it.

  And it was Ethan’s duty to do the same.

  The Raven grinned as he caught Ethan’s eye, and perhaps the worry behind it.

  “If you want Triari, you will have to earn it. And it won’t go to less than a Baron. Still, He will ensure that you have opportunities to do so.”

  Here it comes.

  “The Emperor has need of your services, Baronet Ethan of Alfwin Pass.”

  “I stand ready to follow his commands, and to fulfill my obligations.”

  He nodded. “How long did you expect to keep your secret?” he didn’t have to say which one.

  “Several years. Perhaps three if we can get a fake town up at the river crossing closest to the Great Forest.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Wise to try, but I do not know that you would have succeeded. The Forest doesn’t train half-bad scouts.”

  Would have? Ethan’s stomach dropped.

  “But it doesn’t matter. The good Count of Auenland, another young fellow the Emperor thinks highly of, is in need of a distraction. The whys you can figure out for yourself, or not. But the who has been decided. The Count will learn of your luck in the spring of next year.”

  “As the Emperor wills.” Ethan managed, feeling gut-punched. It was an odd feeling. Knowing you’d just been screwed, but completely unable to find resentment in it. He’d never before been high enough to feel he had any right not to be used. He hid a snort. It was a good reminder about where he sat at the Imperial table. Somewhere just below the salt!

  “Now, now. The Emperor does not take without giving.” He pulled his pack from beside the table and reached inside for a few moments before emerging with an elaborately chased scroll.

  “The Ritual of Specificity. The Lady’s Great, Great Grandfather had this set up at Rivervald. It will show you partial degrees of information. Not just done, or undone. But how close to done. Not just built or unbuilt, but how well built. Even how close your core is to upgrading to the next level. You will find that it opens your eyes to many benefits.”

  “And one more.” He paused, then sat down again, raising his hands above his head, then framing himself with them, let them sweep to the floor. “Me. For a time at least. There is a great deal that you don’t know, and while I won’t fill that void completely, I can at least toss in a few nuggets of wisdom.”

  “Starting with a bit of something that will sound obvious after the fact, but without which you will flounder about for a good long time. A core is much like a class. It has a focus, and that focus is in its name. A farming core levels up by actions that fall under ‘farming’. A mining core from mining and a forestry core from forestry. You have a fortress core.”

  Ethan stared, that would mean…

  “Yes. Fight! Defend what is yours. Train defenders, build defenses, develop resources that are needed to build those defenses, close rifts, patrol your demesne and do it all while focusing on that simple concept. It is yours to develop and defend.”

  Like a spoon as a spear, Ethan realized. All focuses could be stretched to some degree. How far, well they would have to see! Fuck but that was a hell of an advantage!

  “With that in mind, I’d highly recommend you start on your training buildings. You haven’t seen a tithe of what your core can offer.”

  The raven grinned at his gobsmacked expression. “Now, memorize this. A medicinal skill, an inspection skill, a tracking skill, a leadership skill, a ranged weapon skill, the Riding skill, all at T0 and from minute stones and one T1 minute animal-focused skill stone.”

  Ethan stared at the man confused. He just grinned wider, taking a long, slow swallow of beer. He wiped his lips on his sleeve, leaving not a drop behind Ethan noticed, before continuing… slowly.

  “Add the first set to your core for at least one day. Then add the T1 skill and approve the offered combination. You will be the proud new owner of the Herdsman class.”

  Ethan nearly dropped his cup. You could get a class like that??? But!? What?

  “You are not, of course, at the risk of your Lieges displeasure, to spread that information. Nor to seek for the skills in to obvious a manner. But it should fill a hole in your tapestry.

  That it would… If they could buy the skills. But they were very common skills! They could be acquired, though at what cost he wasn’t sure. Far cheaper than a class stone, even for the most common of common classes!

  And then again… “I don’t suppose you have skill stones in your collection for sale?”

  “Smart indeed!” He chuckled and began to pull things from his bag.

  A cloth bundle was unrolled to reveal a series of buttoned pockets, each with a symbol sewn above it. A horse with a figure on its back, an eye staring at an animal, a bow… It went on as he pulled a different roll with a dozen symbols on it, four of which he recognized. Cumin, Coriander, Dill and Rosemary. And with that as context, the scroll-looking image was probably cinnamon and the feathery leaf sage.

  They were about to get cleaned. Of that he was certain…

  And damn but he was looking forward to it!

  The only thing was… “We can’t afford it.” Ethan offered, looking at the first roll with some longing, then firmly moving his eyes to the second. Even that would be expensive, no doubt…

  He tapped his fingers, then stood and walked over to a chest against the wall. He opened it and removed a small pouch, returning with an equally small skill stone.

  “Find Water.” Ethan offered, handing the stone to the Raven.

  He touched it, then his eyes darted up to read something from the air before he let out a soft chuckle. Just as well Andrew wasn’t here for the next bit, Ethan mused.

  “My, that must have chapped you to find.”

  “Oh it gets much better than that. A story worth at least half the stone.”

  “Half of nothing?”

  “Nothing? Of course not. It’s a greatly valuable thing.”

  “To whom?”

  “Sailors who dare the ocean.”

  “Few enough of those. At least among the living.” The Raven shot him down.

  “Desert dwellers.”

  “And how many such Rifts do you expect to find?”

  Ethan shrugged, and pulled out his best, and last, retort. “Occupants of the former Demon lands.”

  The man paused, giving Ethan a look, then back at the window he no doubt still had open. “Ahh. A valid water source. A tricky way to check for contamination. I’ll grant you that. Though with the mana cost…” At least a ten in soul would be required, and that wasn’t so common. But it wasn’t that rare either.

  He considered, then shrugged. “I’ll consider it at least. And what story do you think is worth even a quarter of this small value?”

  “Half.” Ethan insisted. “And you’ll be getting a bargain at that.”

  “Prove it.” He offered, eyes narrowed with doubt.

  Ethan leaned back and grinned. He was no Miro, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see that one man’s brick was another’s gold. And the difference between the two was often the paint.

  “My knight and a hundred men stepped into a desert rift-”

  The Raven laughed until he cried and allowed them to keep the roll of spices.

  A good trade.

  ___

  “I’ll return every now and then.” The Raven offered his massive pack stuffed with a few of the very best hides and some additional dried meat. “Hold back the odd small curios for me, yes? I always have something good to sell.”

  “Go with the Gods, Master Mercator. We will be waiting for your return.” Ethan offered, nodding regally as the Mercator, in all his inoffensive grander, so different from his other face, left the Stone and walked out into the snow.

  ___